


Of Vices and Virtues

by everythingincorrect



Category: Errementari: The Blacksmith and the Devil (2018)
Genre: Adventure, Character Growth, Demonology, Demons, Usue Grows Over Time, Weaponry, disguises, so get ready, teachings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2020-05-15 22:00:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19304674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everythingincorrect/pseuds/everythingincorrect
Summary: Usue watched the blood pour in a stream of black from the marauder's lips. His face twisted into a mask of death. Her breath caught, stunned and trembling, the blade's point slowly withdrawing from the chest. The dying man slipped to the floor."It is a part of who you are. It will guide you, always guard you, and - if wielded properly - it will never fail you."





	1. Prologue

Usue always wondered why everyone in her village was afraid of the night.

 She hated the curfews Blanca set for her. Two hours before sunset was ridiculous; that was one hour _more_ than the previous month! Her face would twist into a sneer, watching the townsfolk run around like beheaded chickens, rushing in their children before the shadows of the trees touched the walls. The boys would beg for 5 more minutes, the men would haul in the firewood over their shoulders quickly, and the girls would practically beat down the doors from seeing the first bat fly overhead.

 Cowards, the lot of them. How they boasted, charged, and belittled in the daylight, only to hide behind their mothers’ backs when the sky turned black. They weren’t even anywhere near the wood, whose towering branches threatened to reach across the fields, and steal them in their sleep. When the first wolf began to cry, they didn’t dare stay awake to listen, for the wolves are vile, wicked creatures that were only meant to harm the livestock. That is what the parents say. That is what Don Mateo says. And if it is the word of the parents or Don Mateo, then it must be so.

 But not for Usue.

 Not for Usue, for the sky does not turn black, but a very deep blue that is speckled with beacons of light. Not for Usue, for the wood’s branches do not threaten, but guard their small village nestled in the countryside. Not for Usue, for the wolves do not cry, but sing, and their songs are mysterious and lovely to both her ears that lull her to sleep.

 The children shriek over the dark but when the moon is present there are barely any shadows at all. There is moonlight and fireflies and stars and the unique scent that each season carries with it. There were no beasts, only animals that were nocturnal. There were no monsters, only demons, God and angels. And for Usue, most of them weren’t to be feared.

 “Usue, are you listening to me? Get inside, now, child!”

 She stole one last glance at the jeweled sky. Taking her next step, she shut the door away from the night.

 She knew she would live to see another.

 

* * *

 

“Here,” Blanca grunted, handing the bundle of dangling squirrels to Usue. “Take them inside, please. We will skin and put them over the fire later.”

 Wood and dust clung to the air as the animals were placed on the table. Usue watched the flames that snaked up from the fireplace, providing warmth for the home. Their ginger strokes lit the embers beneath, which glowed with hues of red.

  _He would be far away by now,_ Usue thought.

 It had been 3 days since the demon disappeared into the wood. Blanca coddled her, Mateo ushered her into the church whenever he could, and Benito’s annoying sudden kindness was starting to get under her skin. It tested her. The child knew she should be grateful after having received such horrid treatment in prior years, but forgiveness couldn’t come to her just yet. It was too soon, _far_ too soon. There was still anger she felt after those recent events. Then again, Usue wasn’t sure if anger would ever leave her.

 Her mother was gone. Unless cast to Hell on the day she takes her last breath, Usue will never find her. Patxi was gone, as quick as he came. Although he _did_ bring her back, Sartael lied in their deal, and his leave? Well, that really wasn’t much of a choice. Some strange, new folk might be coming into town asking for the blacksmith’s former prisoner, and Usue will stay silent. She could not tell what she didn’t know.

 But Alastor, she wasn’t angry with. No, instead, she hated him. Alastor, the fiend that fooled the whole town, besmirched his own kind whenever the chance was given, and lied through his teeth from the moment their hands shook. Usue remembered the sight, smell and sounds of Hell’s gates, but not the sight, smell or sound of her mother whom was promised. She recalled the kick he gave to one of the demons that could have ruptured its chest on impact. She recalled the fear he placed in _everyone_ there, not just her and the other souls. Had the girl not have intervened with those miraculous chickpeas, who knows what would have happened to Patxi’s soul. And despite the idiocy Sartael displayed during the trio’s time together, despite his pathetic insults that made her want to bash his head against the cage, his crestfallen face from Alastor’s onslaught will never leave her memory.

 She would not fail to take caution if she were to ever meet Hell’s executioner again. Or at least that’s what Mateo told her he was. She hoped it wasn’t another lie.

 “You spend too much time near the fire. It is bright today. You should be playing with the others.” The priest shuffled inside and pulled out a chair from beneath the table. His hand dusted it off, a grunt escaping from his lips due to his aged joints.

 “I helped with gathering the squirrels today for tonight’s dinner. Isn’t that enough?” Usue replied. She didn’t want to leave the warmth of the flames. Autumn was coming to a close and winter was on its way.

“You haven’t spoken to any of the children since you returned. You need to learn how to converse properly with them.”

 “The sun will be setting soon.”

 “Not for another four hours at the very least, child,” the priest stated in a voice that grew stern. “Go on, now.”

 There was no point in protesting. She might get struck again. Once she fetched her doll from the mantle, she retreated out the door once more, never noticing Mateo’s nod of approval.

 A pigeon flew into a nearby oak tree. The hooves of horses that pulled along carts behind them were heard around every corner. The young girl spotted Benito and Faustino jumping around the dirt path with wooden sticks.

 “Come on, you’re not even trying!” Benito said to his friend. “Knights don’t hide behind haybales, they charge and slash, like this!”

 Usue observed the sad excuse of a swing. Mateo was right. It was bright today. At least one good thing was happening.

 “What do you mean I’m not trying?” Ander retorted. “I got your legs at least five times! You’re just not paying attention and hacking away like some maniac.” The boy rubbed his nose with his sleeve. Their skin was damp over their playfight, rebelling against the chilled fall. The trees blew a few leaves onto the ground from the light breeze.

 “I’ve sliced you plenty of times before you touched my legs - you’re already dead.” Benito laughed in the afternoon sun. Ander picked up his stick again, and the duo swung their weapons a few more times before noticing Usue walking by. She tried to do so unnoticed.

 “Where are you going now? You’re not going back to those woods, are you? If father thinks that I’m going to look for you this time, he’s insane.” She failed. Usue wanted to cover her ears. Benito’s whining was always close to making her deaf. Attempts to ignore him were futile. He’d only follow.

 “I’d rather do a hundred chores every day than stand here and watch two idiots flail their arms like they’re wings.”

 “You couldn’t even lift a branch if you tried, let alone a _real_ sword. Besides, women don’t belong in battle. What you just saw is more than you could ever do in your life!”

 “Who was the one that punched you again? I forgot.”

 “Benito, leave her alone,” Ander muttered under his breath. The child thought of the warning his mother gave him shortly after the red beast left. It was best to stay away from her.

 “No! I fixed her doll, and she’s done nothing in return. She still doesn’t come to Mass, she still barely talks and when she does, it’s nothing but filth, and she still runs off when she should be here with everyone else.”

 “I haven’t been to those woods in days!” Usue defended, finding her voice. True, she wasn’t fond of constantly hanging around the other kids, and gave up trying, but she hadn’t ventured off through the fields since her return. The fear of a far more serious punishment than being hit kept her at bay.

 “Benito, I said stop it,” Ander hissed. He was trying hard not to look at her.

 “Stupid girl, why can’t you just be _normal?_ ”

 Usue’s face fell, her black hair framing her face, eyes casting downward. Ander held his breath in her silence, wishing he were anywhere else but where he was. His mother would pull his ear off is she found out that he was around her for a prolonged period of time. Who knows what Usue was capable of if she was pushed far enough, now that she was back from Hell. It frightened him. It most definitely frightened his mother. She always told him that the girl should have been casted out from the beginning. Then she wouldn’t have been a problem at all. He thought about leaving the two on their own, but as usual, Usue was the first to start walking the other direction.

 The dirt scuffed underneath her shoes and the air suddenly felt colder. The sunlight that combed through her hair shone in her peripheral vision. The ground was more interesting at the moment. She walked instead of ran, for if there was any attention drawn to them at that point, she didn’t want to attract more. Instead, she simply wished she could disappear. Not walk or run or hide, but go away, just for a little while. A villager strolled past her, noticing her face but saying nothing, a normal incident that occurred all the time. Another thing she hated. It happened before her time with Patxi, it happened afterward despite Blanca’s coddling, and Usue’s now beginning to believe that it’ll always happen.

 Never mind that Mateo believes she’s a saint, deep down. Never mind that Blanca tries to express her care in the best way she can. The townsfolk will never want anything to do with Usue. They only fear her.

  _Well if that’s how it’s going to be_ , she thought, _then let it be fear_.

 Fear will always be better than a beating.


	2. To Have Two Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Usue begins to learn the game Benito intends to play. Soon the village itself will have many faces, both old and new.

Voices.

She was hearing voices.

 _Maybe it’s Blanca getting a drink of water,_ Usue thought, trying to go back to sleep. Through the cracks of her eyes, moonlight still shined against the windowsill. Shadows continued to stand guard in the corners of the bedroom. The girl could have been asleep for a short period of time, but the candle that sat on the nightstand diminished its flame hours ago. All was still; it was far from dawn.

They kept growing.

Louder and louder from behind the door across the room, one at first but then two more joined, and Usue did her best to fight off sleep, sitting up. Furrowing her brows, she thought it had been just her and Blanca in the cottage. Nothing coming from a male should be heard.

Perhaps Don Mateo needed to see her guardian for something urgent. Perhaps one of the men from the pub stopped by. Santi had always been a talkative one - it wouldn’t be a surprise if he paid a visit after closing the town pub.

However, she hated it when people sauntered themselves into their home during the evening, visiting with no early notice. If anything, it was as if they believed they owned the home themselves. The walls were thin, and conversations that occurred downstairs could sometimes sound as though they were right next to her ears. Sleep was easily taken away.

She would be hit from any attempts at eavesdropping. It was rude to commit such a thing. And there was no way she was going to leave the warmth of her quilt. The first snow fell just last week. Her bare feet would be freezing in seconds. No, it was best to try to shut it out.

But a strip of flickering red light seeped through the bottom of the door, catching her eye, and Usue _knew_ that no sort of candlelight could cause that kind of aura to appear.

_Crack._

_Crack. Crack._

The door was crackling. While the handle and frame did not rattle from anyone attempting to break in, a quiet roaring blazed in the distance. It was a noise she had listened to before, a noise that sometimes appeared when she dreamt of Patxi and the blessed bell. Why, it almost sounded like...

A clash of metal rang from the other side. Sulfur’s horrid, putrid stench filled the room.

_“No, impossible!”_

Blood turned cold.

Where has she heard...?

“ _Please, let me go instead, just leave her be!”_

The girl flinched.

_I know that voice._

Her pulse raced. Skin turned to sheet white. Quivering, pressing - both lungs were going to collapse. Her heart began to claw its way up her throat. That sounded familiar... _too_ familiar.

It frightened her. Why was it suddenly so warm in the room? Would the house still be there if she opened the door?

_"Usue."_

But she couldn’t move, and there was no time to decide.

Laughter invaded the air. Cruel, vile, malevolent laughter. It pierced both ears. Ineffable, head-splitting, excruciating pain. Who was screaming?

_“Usue.”_

Hands covered her head, legs buckling to the floor. Convulsing. Prickling, peeling, splitting that fell like a sheet of curtain. She had been through this pain before. Why was it worse?

It was all over.

It was nothing in compare.

_Oh God!_

Screaming.

_Make it stop! It burns! **IT BURNS!**_

**_“_** _Usue,_ WAKE UP! _”_

 

* * *

 

A dull overcast crept through the window near the bed. The sound of Blanca beckoning for breakfast muffled the air.

She shot up, tossing the quilt to the floor, frantically searching for injuries. First her face, then her arms, then her legs.

Nothing. There were no wounds beneath the ivory gown. Snapping up her head, both eyes crossed the room.

The red light under the door was gone.  

“Usue, for Heaven’s sake, get down here before your meal grows cold! It’s been ten minutes!”

“Coming!” she called back as she stood to get dressed. After being removed, the gown was placed into the woven basket, her attention being brought to the quavering hands that put it there. Lest she be questioned by Blanca once her seat was taken at the table, a few deep breaths deemed necessary. An interrogation was the last thing needed at the moment. She wasn’t sure if she would run off or not before an answer could be given.

Once the last button on her yale dress was done, her hair was brushed away from her face. It had always been a trouble to keep the strands from covering it. There was hardly any effort in making it look grand, though. One day after being assigned to collect apples from one of the town’s orchards, Benito said it would “bring out her pretty blue eyes”. The comment materialized as repulsive, coming from his mouth.

She brushed a hand on her scar, not being able to help but recall the pain experienced in the nightmare. How the hell the entire ordeal had felt so real to her she didn’t know, but there was indeed gratefulness given once she awoke in her bed instead of a grave.

Bad dreams were no stranger to her. They occurred almost every other night.

She dreamt of the shadow her mother’s death cast, of a woman whom could not be seen and wasn’t really there. She dreamt of Patxi’s smile, his keep, and a hand curled around hers that led them through the dark. She dreamt of fire, of red, of metal. She dreamt of brown and yellow eyes that were to be there when hers opened.

But they never appeared. And this dream - this particular one - was the first to send her into a panic, unable to put a finger on why.

The sweet smell of eggs and sausage met Usue at the top of the stairs. Turning the corner to the kitchen, the sight of Blanca humming a folk tune while washing the dishes put her at ease. Outside the window was a sky of gray.

“I fetched some blackberries from the brush near the wood for you. I know they’re your favorite.”

“Thank you,” Usue said, taking her seat. Blanca placed down the brush on the counter and pulled out a chair for herself.

“The snowing has ceased since the other night. Benito, Ander and the girls are outside playing. Perhaps you should join them,” she suggested, not missing Usue’s grimace as her mouth chewed on a berry.

The young girl should have known something was up. Blanca never brought her anything she favored unless it was for the sake of a bribe. Yet still, she was far from wanting to argue. It would only make her mood much worse.   

“I will try to find them once I am finished.” There. That should be satisfying. A smile was her reward.

“Thank you. It’s only because I don’t want you to be alone. The Lord wants happiness for all his children.”

 _It’s only because you’re tired of a recluse living under your roof,_ Usue spat,  _but if that’s what you wish to believe, then so be it._ The girl remembered those words spoken in the distance after running from the corridor.

_“Remember she’s your responsibility, not mine!”_

“Are you alright, dear? You look quite pale.” Blanca placed the back of her palm on her forehead, then the right cheek. No one ever touched the left.

“I’m fine. Just a bad dream.” The rest of the berries on the plate were picked from the small vine.

“Another one?” her guardian sighed. “You’ve had quite a lot of those since, well...the incident.”

“It’s nothing to fret over. Some fresh air should do me good.” In reality, Usue wanted to run away from the questions, but the façade stayed in place.

“It wasn’t about that...that _beast_ , was it?”

“He was not a beast,” she growled. “He was a demon - there’s a difference. Besides, he’s not coming back. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” Usue wasn’t sure why the correction needed to be made. The conversation was turning dangerous. Her choice of words better be smart.

“He, she, it - as long as the damn thing stays away. I just don’t want what happened to haunt you with nightmares.”

 _Too late._ “I know it put a lot of stress on you, on all of us.”

“I will manage,” the statement intending to end the talk. “May I be excused?”

“You’re not going to eat your sausage? You barely finished your eggs.”

“I’ve had a light appetite this morning. I’ll search for Benito and the others now.” She pushed her chair in, the plate making a silent _clink_ once placed in the wash.

“Oh, very well,” Blanca rushed after her. “Just don’t forget your cloak! It’s bitter out there - wouldn’t want you to catch your death.” But before Usue could reach for it on the rack, the collar was already tossed around her shoulders, a pair of hands buttoning the clasp. She granted a small smile in return.

“I’ll be careful,” her voice assured, starting the walk before another word was said.

 

* * *

 

But of course she wasn’t going to find Benito and his pack! What did Blanca take her for?

Three crows dotted the gray sky. Winter’s scent blew all around. The bare tree branches guarded the town, towering overhead and into the wood, and the memory of the girls’ complaints about the scary impression they made came back. A smirk graced her lips.

Usue was not someone who was scared by things that gave her warmth with the help of flames. The Girl Who Went to Hell and Back had no fear of shadows or ghouls or bats, but instead held fear for things that were rooted further down. Things that could cause men to lose sleep as well. Her mind thought about what it had witnessed during her time in Hell, how the light of hellfire was almost blinding, how some of the demons were more traumatizing than others, and how the height of Alastor’s true form made everyone else feel like the tiniest mouse in a trap. Had it been any other child to go at the time, it could have disintegrated their sanity by now.

It was unknown how her bravery came to be, from the first steps taken towards the cage, to shaking Alastor’s hand, and to waking up every day since that night. She did not fear death. Alastor already granted a sample of it. She did not fear Patxi. Intimidating, yes, but at heart he was a fair man with a laugh of mirth. And she most _definitely_ did not fear Sartael. If anything, he was just a nuisance.  

“ _Watch it_ , kid!”

A broad shoulder roughly shoved against hers. A bearded man strolled past, his beret hiding his face. The local muttered “damn witch” under his breath, continuing to walk away. Usue bristled.

“Shithead,” she hissed with silence. Hands reaching to draw the cloak tighter, she meant to take another step, until a drunk crashed abruptly out of a door to her left. Gazing through the open entryway, she didn’t realize that her thoughts led her to Santi and Ana’s pub.

 _Great._ _Best turn back now._ Benito could show up at any time.

“I’m telling you, Fanité, the rumors are true! You’ve got to believe me!”

“How many times do I have to tell you, you blockhead? You _did_ _not_ see any sort of raiders. They were most likely just folks from another town passing through.”

Instinctively, Usue stopped to listen. The door was cracked an inch, and the two men were near enough to be listened to. She watched their table, the candlelight illuminating and dancing off their faces.

“They had weapons, much like the ones the soldiers had during the war. There were no guns, but still - why would they be carrying those into a new village? Their clothes were as black as night, and --”

“For the last time, Miguel, there is nothing to be concerned about. I know the loss of Lukas is still hard on you, but if you keep spreading these stories, you’re going to cause a panic!”

“Why can’t you believe me?” the man cried, hands flailing in the air. “Something is wrong - I know it! We’ve had frauds show up here before.”

“And due to that fact,” Fanité drawled, “we almost lost a child to that red beast eight years ago from our involvement!”

The man took a deep breath and ran a hand down his face.

“But Fanité --”

“Enough of these superstitions. We just ate. What you need is a drink. Santi!” he called over his shoulder. “Bring over a Patxaran, would you?”

Although the desire to listen for more was strong, Usue knew it would only be asking for trouble if she were to step inside. After all, she attempted to stay away from the pub as much as possible, otherwise Benito would find her and continue to be annoying. How odd it would be to suddenly make an appearance after such an alarming discussion.

Instead of risking being questioned by Santi’s entourage, she went to turn away, wondering what Miguel could have been fretting about.

“You, above all people, should know that it’s rude to eavesdrop.”

 _Shit_.

“What do you want, Benito?”

“Who said I wanted anything?” he grinned. Her eyes narrowed. “I thought you were going to come to the orchard with us. It’s lovely during this season.”

She noticed that his clothes were worn and tailored a little neater. A matching beret was tilted on his head. There were no dirt or scuff marks anywhere on his trousers. The boy’s hands rested behind his back, which was straight in his posture.

“The snow has stopped. I preferred a walk today. I figured that my absence would tell you that I don’t want to be bothered.”

“Come now, your cheek isn’t needed _every_ day. The girls have already returned to their cottages. Are you sure you don’t want to join Ander and I?”

“ _Yes_ , now leave me alone.”

It was frustrating, how boys could be so tempted to mind everyone’s business but their own, especially the ones that lived in this town. Ever since Usue’s birthday, Benito has dressed nicer.

Spoke nicer.

Acted nicer.

And she knew what he was doing. The boy had always been so predictable. After all this time, did he still take her for a fool?

“I’m going home. It’s getting cold.”

She took a step.

“You won’t stay for a drink?”

He blocked her.

“Not interested.” There was no way she was going to share one with the most aggravating person in town.

Another step.

“It would be good for you to relax for a little while,” he blocked her again. “You’re right, it is getting cold. A refreshment near the fire could be something you need.”

“Or, you could stop telling me what you think is good for me like everyone else here and _get out of my way!_ ” 

Her fist collided with his jaw, and Benito staggered backwards, a trickle of blood spilling from his mouth.

“What the hell is your problem?” he shouted, causing a few nearby locals to furrow in wonder.

“The problem is you! It’s always been you, but I wouldn’t expect you to know that, let alone know what the word no means! If you’re so desperate for someone to have your arm around, go frolic with one of the other girls and _stop following me!_ ”

Before he could reply, Usue already stormed off, temper fuming. Her pace quickened further and further, not caring about the raised eyebrows as the girl traveled down the dirt path. Sadly, her temper also knew that as soon as she stepped in her cottage, she would be asked how their time spent together went, and most likely scolded for hitting him. If anything, Ana would have a talk with her in the future after seeing Benito’s bloodied mouth.

_Serves him right!_

But the result? A very long, sharp tongue-lashing was certain to come straight for her.

 _Why does it have to be me?_ she thought. Why couldn’t there be other people to socialize with that were her age? People that didn’t look at her funny when she acted herself, people that supported what she believed in, and didn’t try to push her down a path she had no desire to go? People who didn’t manipulate or taunt or worst of all _pretend_ to like her? Why couldn’t she be a _normal_ girl, with two parents and a _normal_ family, and above all, live a _normal_ life?

But the most unfortunate thing when it came to Usue, was that if it had been any other girl, the first thing they’d cry would be “it’s not fair!”.

And if there was anything that Usue did know, it’s that life wasn’t fair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name of Benito's friend in the prologue was changed due to a character error. Faustino turned out to be one of Santi's men in the film.


	3. Among the Sheep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's something in the wood.

“You  _struck_ him in the jaw?” Blanca couldn’t believe her ears, nor her eyes, mouth dropping agape.

“Struck him? The bloody wench utterly punched the boy!”

“If he had left me alone,” Usue seethed, “it wouldn’t have happened.” A frown disheartened her face, sheets of ebony hair gracing the sides. She tried to keep her voice calm to attract less attention from other villagers, but Benito’s mother was writhing under her skin as the seconds passed. The girl did not understand why the two of them were throwing such dramatic fits. There were no signs of purple - no busted veins, no taints - nothing except for a split upon his lower lip. The boy was fine!

“How dare you put your hands on my child?” Ana dabbed a cloth stained red against Benito’s cut, mouth clenching, throat tightening in rage and face turning flushed. Hair crept out the sides of her bonnet during her fit. Her gaze turned to the other two adults. “If either of you had a sense of discipline at all, both sides of the witch’s face would be bruised!”

“Is that a threat?” Usue hissed.

“Mum,” whispered Benito, “it isn’t that bad. I’ve had worse.” The pink embarrassment on his cheeks was obvious. His hands fiddled with the hem of his tunic.

“Watch your tongue, Ana.” Blanca cocked her head towards the door, gesturing the town’s priest to step into the home for the discussion the three of them were about to have. “Tend to your child while I tend to mine. Usue, inside, now.”

The young girl rushed through the entry, the door shutting away the deathly glare Ana sent her. Light from the fireplace gleamed off the walls, evening bringing in its cool breeze through the open window. The thought of storming up to her room came to mind but would only resolve in both her guardians following after. Not a care was given towards what they had to say about her earlier actions. Benito deserved every bit of it, if not more. Unfair, yes, but if a punishment were to be given, seeing the blood trickle down his face would prove worth it.

Still, a question continued to boil in her mind. She spun around.

“Why him?”

Don Mateo stood, pondering her antics.

“What do you mean ‘why him’, child?”

“Why him?” she shouted, finger pointing at the door. “Why is it always him you want me to be around? ‘Usue, go find Benito, he could use some help with gathering milk.’ ‘Usue, go play with Benito, it’s a lovely day.’ ‘Usue, go see Benito in the orchard, you could probably find a week’s worth of apples.’ Half the time, our orchard barely grows any at all!”

“What is so awful about Ana’s boy to you?” Blanca was baffled by her outburst.

“What’s so awful about being belittled for eight years?” she fired back.

“Usue, you are not being fair to Benito. Angry or not, you had no right to strike him.” The frown plastered on her face only fueled the girl’s fire. How could she not understand?

“He wouldn’t leave after I said no.”

“It does not matter.”

“I gave him a warning!”

“It  _does_ _not_ matter! The very least you could have done was act like a lady and walk away. What you’ve done is very uncouth. No child of mine is going to waltz the roads striking whoever decides to speak to her, let alone invite her to a stroll in the orchard.”

Blanca’s charge gave thought about mentioning Benito stepping in her war during her attempt to leave, how closer he had come in proximity over the years, but she knew better than to think that a victory could be won over this argument. For her, such outcomes never came. Years ago, as a small child, this notion caused her to be distraught, but lately the girl learned to accept it.

Maybe when she grew older - just a little bit more, they would begin to listen to her. Usue despised the harshness of reality, but if there was one thing she did believe in, it was hope.

Until then, however, she’d have to settle with the result every fiber of her being hated: losing.

The priest was silent alongside Blanca, and while his face showed reluctance, there was a strange twinkle in his eye. She was aware of how quiet he had been considering the situation.

The behavior perturbed her. 

“Usue, dear,” he began, “it may be hard for you to see now, but Santi’s son is a good boy and full of potential. He can take care of you, long after we’re gone.”

“The day I let a man _coddle_ me will be the day that death leaves no other choice.” The image of a grown Benito pampering her, fluffing up the pillows and tucking her in was etched into her mind by Mateo’s words. She could already taste the sourness of bile.

“That is a foolish thing to say, child. A woman needs a holy matrimony. You will not be the only girl in this village to receive one. It’s only what the Lord wants for us all. It is something that needs to be highly considered.”

“Benito,” Blanca added, “needs to be considered. And from the way you acted today in front of the villagers, you’re not even giving him a chance.”

 _There weren’t even that many of them there_ , Usue thought bitterly. She shut her eyes in frustration and let out a breath.

“I never said I wouldn’t accept a marriage. I just don’t believe that he is the right one. Even his mother hates me.”

“Ana could warm up to you.” The tone of Blanca softened, placing belief in her words. “Her dislike could be altered; it is merely a minor concern.”

“Are there any other young men you might have interest in?” Mateo stepped in. “You need to choose eventually, child. You will become of age far sooner than you think.”

“But I have tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day --”

“Time passes quickly for us, Usue. You do not have long.”

“You make it sound as if I don’t have a choice,” she muttered under her breath. Though unbeknownst to Mateo’s old ears, Blanca caught it, beginning to rise.

“Usue, we --”

“I will have the biscuits prepared by tomorrow morning, as well as the eggs. I’m turning in for the night.”

Footsteps up the staircase silenced the room.

A door slammed shut. It was appalling, what those two wanted to happen to her. To offer herself to a man at such a time, and to Benito of all people caused her to pace around the room. Brushing the knots out of her hair roughly, she wondered and wondered why it needed to be this way. The girl’s reflection spat at her face every time she looked at the mirror, reminding her of what she was turning into.

It was disgusting, really.

Usue made sure to keep her hair at its usual length, no further than the shoulders. It was the least she could do to hold onto how she looked all those years ago. But now her body was maturing, and the conversation that occurred downstairs only made her feel like a piece of dangling meat on the market. How Don Mateo and Blanca could be so calm with such declares was beyond her.

She was beginning to grow hair in places she didn’t remember. Now, a razor was needed to keep it tame. Her height slowly increased and although nowhere near outrageously tall, the girl she used to be eight years ago was disappearing before her very eyes. Usue wasn’t sure what her future held, but marriage was certainly out of the picture. She had watched other women for years performing the duties of a housewife, and it revolted her. She just couldn’t understand why anyone would want to live that way.

Still, there was no stopping it. There was no stopping her adolescence, no stopping a forced matrimony, and from the looks of it, no stopping Benito’s onslaughts until he received what he wanted.

No, she wasn’t ready to do household chores for the rest of her life. She wasn’t ready to become just another woman who lived in this village. She wasn’t ready to care for children, attending Mass every week. She wasn’t ready to give up whatever freedom she had.

And above all, she wasn’t ready to give herself up to another man.

Usue’s hands fiddled with a match to light her bedside candle. Outside her window, the white ground glimmered beneath the night sky. The girl made sure to wear her gown that had sleeves, hem trailing just below her ankles. Winter’s winds would pick up soon.

If only Maite were here to tell her what to do. Longing for her mother came to her like waves while she curled into her quilt. The stillness of the room consumed all space and if there was ever a time for late-night conversations to put her at ease, it was now.

But there was no one, and a familiar burning met Usue’s eyes whenever Maite was thought of.

Her head hurt as she pushed back, willing herself to go to sleep, tired of that feeling she suffered too many times before. It could wait another day.

The candle’s flame bled into moonlight.

 

* * *

 

 

“Come on, Miguel, I need those shipments arrived by evening! Don’t forget to put the hay in the cart. No, not that one, the other one!”

Alongside Blanca and Don Mateo to complete the day’s chores, Usue stared at Santi’s friend while he fumbled with the cargo. She had heard that a customer from out of town bought large amounts of brandy for his folks back at home. No pubs were available from where he was from, and although it costed heavy interrogation as well as his money, Santi agreed to have the bottles packaged for the customer’s journey back.

“Thank you very much for your help,” the bearded stranger said as he held the reins. “A little treat for my absence should give my friends contempt.”

“Yes, I wish you a safe trip back.” Santi exchanged with a feign smile, untrusting. He turned to his friend. “Thank you for your help, Miguel.”

“Anytime,” the man grinned, tipping his beret, legs hidden behind his long cloak. The sound of hooves trotting away quieted down the path. Santi caught sight of the trio walking and raised his voice.

“Don Mateo, a word, if you please.”

“What could he --” Blanca started, worried about yesterday’s spiel with Benito, but was interrupted by the priest’s raised hand. The pub’s owner began to cross the dirt, trailing damp, muddy footprints.

“Stay here with Usue. I’m sure there’s nothing to fret.”

“He came from the south, a local in Soria. Paid full expense,” Santi said, hands coming to rest on his hips. “He’ll be fine, but there’s something else that is concerning me.”

“What troubles you?” The priest watched his pause, hesitation obvious. The man appeared frazzled in his state. He looked up at the gray afternoon sky that hung overhead, then looked Mateo in the eye.

“Faustino, Benji and Asier came to me this morning after opening. Three men, all of which who live on the edge of town, just outside the wood.”

“Yes, and?”

“Well, the men, they... They’ve... They’ve reported...”

The priest waited in patience, eyebrows raising. A sigh escaped Santi’s pursed lips. He leaned in.

“They’ve reported beheaded wolves.”

A prickle of dread filled Mateo’s chest, not quite understanding what the man just said. The priest’s jaw dropped slightly. Many questions and conclusions began to pour.

Blanca and Usue could tell from where they stood the disturbance of the matter. It unnerved the woman. It filled the girl with curiosity.

“Usue, go check the chicken’s coop, please. Do the daily count,” she instructed, turning the girl’s shoulders.

“But --”

“Go, child!” After checking that her charge was on her way to do what she was told, the woman picked up her trailing skirts, heading towards the pair. The feeling of uncertainty slithered against her spine. “What has happened?”

Santi looked around, not wanting the other villagers to hear.

“Come with me.”

The three headed towards the local pub, all in silence donning neutral masks to ward off any suspicions or worries. The several smells of the afternoon’s cooking slipped down the road, Ana’s ham in her sandwiches getting stronger. They walked quickly, dodging passing villagers.

Blanca prayed that Usue listened to her and was not anywhere near the pub to eavesdrop, an unintentional bad habit the child had picked up throughout the years. If her ears were correct from picking up the word wolves, then there was certain trouble ahead that Usue did not need to be a part of. The last thing this town needed was anywhere near a repeat of what occurred when the girl was half her height.

She shut her eyes, pushing away the memory of Usue lifeless in her arms. What she could only describe as protective instincts kicked in once Santi opened the door. Ana, pausing her conversation with a table of known drunkards, came to them at once.

“Is everything alright?”

“We’re fine,” her husband replied. “We’ll be in the back room.” Her brows furrowed.

“Is this about...?” She wrung the washrag in worry.

A curt nod was given, and with a dip of her head she departed to retrieve more drinks for her current table, allowing them to continue. Across the public area to behind the bar, they vanished into another doorway, leading to the living space of Santi’s family.

“Benito is out currently. Ana will continue to keep watch and serve. No one will listen nor come back here, and I believe both of you should be the first to hear.” His hand met his hip again, fingers coming up to brush his beard.

“Forgive me,” Mateo said, “did you say _beheaded_ wolves?”

“Yes, for Christ’s sake, three heads of Iberians, left at their very doorsteps!” Santi’s eyes grew wide, wrinkles appearing in unease. “At first, I believed it was a joke, that the two were bluffing but Mateo, they showed me. I went to their homes due to the state that they were in and it’s true. There was no noise, no disturbances heard throughout the night, but they were there that morning.”

“Where are the bodies?” Blanca asked.

“Nowhere in sight but that’s not all. Just the other day Miguel was fretting over seeing these foreigners near the wood, said they carried weapons and wore strange clothing. First them and now this?”

“It hasn’t even been a month,” Mateo added. “Do they still have the heads?”

“Yes, they kept them out in the yard of Benji’s cottage to show me. They’re going to bury them tonight, but...”

“What is it, Santi?” the woman frowned.

“Asier, the third man, he... He read a book written in the sixteenth century. He thinks it’s...” Another sigh. “He thinks it’s witchcraft.”

“Witchcraft?”

“Santi, it’s been hundreds of years, I hardly think that --”

“I know, I understand it sounds absurd,” the man growled, shaking his head, “but in this book it was believed that beheaded wolves were a form of protection against charms, witchcraft - anything evil, and due to what happened eight years ago, I...”

Another sigh. “I don’t think we should rule out the possibility.”

“Has anyone come to you about rituals?” Blanca asked bluntly, voice firm. Once more, she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. His head shook. “Sacrifices? Spells?” Another shake. “There have been no sightings or reports to any of us, and the whole town is certainly not in a state of hysteria. You are speaking of something that occurred two hundred years ago! And as for those ‘foreigners’, so you call them, Miguel has been troubled ever since your lot decided to step near that keep. We lost Lukas! I don’t know what he saw in the wood, but I am certain it was harmless.”

The man’s gaze turned to ice, his voice churning to stone.

“Need I remind you of whom _you_ almost lost that day?”

The woman bristled, insulted by the mere thought of Usue never coming back.

“For Heaven’s sake, it’s _gone_ , Santi!” Blanca stressed, remembering Usue’s words. “As is Patxi, as is that imposturous government man. And on account of what happened here, mind you, it would not be wise at this time to start spreading something as dangerous as witchcraft.”

“What else could it be?” he shot. “Those men --”

“Many people travel by forests - you know that, and they haven’t appeared since! Whomever was responsible for the deaths of those animals most likely did it to cause a fright amongst us. It was nothing more than a nasty stunt.”

“Or a warning.”

Blanca turned to the priest, disbelief written on her face.

“What do you mean a warning? You’re certainly not falling into this, are you?” her voice rose.

“Santi is right. We cannot rule out the possibility. Some of the villagers called Usue a witch ever since she returned from Hell, regardless of what she’s done. If outsiders hear of such names...”

The woman’s tone was one of rage. Their words were beginning to cross lines.

“I will not stand here and have another outbreak happen to us, to Usue above of all! The child has already been through enough as have we, and she is _not_ a witch.”

“Nevertheless, we need to be alert. What has been spoken in this room will not reach the public,” Santi assured. “Not until we have confirmation on what is happening. You are right; this could very well be nothing more than a hoax, yet there could also be a connection between the two. My men and I will keep an eye on the borders, especially at night. It is the least we can do.”

“Thank you, Santi, for informing us.” Mateo cleared his throat. “In the meantime, I suggest we all watch our children. We will need to keep a close eye on Usue.” The priest glanced at Blanca, who nodded in agreement, too vexed to continue to speak.

“I appreciate both of you coming. Feel free to stop by later tonight for supper; Ana will take good care of you. Until then, I believe a certain girl is waiting for you.”

Blanca and Don Mateo exited the family’s quarters, eyes kept forward as they waded their way through the bustle of the afternoon. Benito arrived, granting them a puzzled look before stepping up the staircase to clean one of the guest rooms. Outside, the winter air grew crisp, and the woman’s shawl was hugged tighter around her shoulders. Beneath the gray, their breaths dissolved into mist, the trot of horses and words of townsfolk greeting their ears.

The priest, heeding Blanca’s sharp silence, a common episode whenever she was upset, disheartened him. He knew that she wished for Usue’s safety more than anything, even after the hardship the child had caused when she was little. But at times like this when her cheeks were rosy and mouth a firm line, he was lost for words. Any attempts of comforting would be shut down immediately, and all he could do was hope that Usue did not find trouble during their encounter with Santi. If so, her guardian would surely lose her head.

He did not know what they planned to do with her. She had been the center of mischief since the day Patxi handed her to them on their doorstep. How the child had once found herself between a blacksmith and not one, but _two_ demons amazed and terrified him. She had not spoken of the ordeal since then, but unfortunately Mateo was no stranger to what the villagers called her. It was as if Usue’s name was taken away and replaced with another far sinister. If the word witchcraft was spread throughout town, they would surely deem the girl a target.

And if Usue was a target, so was her guardian.    

 _Please, Lord, let them be safe_ , he prayed. _Let us all be safe in your care._

As the monastery came into view, and the sight of Blanca’s charge caressing scarlet carnations met his eyes, a small smile graced his lips.

Perhaps his worries of the child straying down a treacherous path were all for naught.

 

* * *

 

Usue saw right through her adoptive mother.

And was surprised for actually obeying her earlier order. The desire to follow and eavesdrop as usual hit her, but there was something in Blanca’s tone that was unsettling. It seemed to take the couple forever to return to the cottage, but she couldn’t complain. It was nice that Usue had the home to herself for the remainder of the afternoon and the first half of the evening. Tending to the flowers outside from the garden was one of her favorite passing times, and they needed extra care during this particular season.

Continuing on down the road opposite of where the trio stood, the child told herself that perhaps a member of Santi’s family was ill. Perhaps someone was having trouble with their crops. It was winter, after all. Such circumstances happened almost all the time.

No, it couldn’t be anything serious. Yet...

She could sense her weary within the expressions of her face. When something upset the elder woman, she possessed no talent of hiding it. Moving around the home as much as she could, occupying herself with dinner, dishes, or sometimes firewood also gave her frustrations away. Don Mateo had already retired to bed, but Blanca insisted on staying awake for “housekeeping”, in other words attempting to reduce her negativity.

The girl knew better than to intrude at a time like this; it would only result in snapping. It was best to wait until later to interrogate.

Still, she couldn’t help but think back to her argument with Benito. Had Ana finally had enough and was the cause of the disruption? Was she not allowed anywhere near the pub? And she could’ve sworn she heard something about wolves.

In a gentle voice, she spoke.

“Is everything alright?”

...Silence.

A plate was dried. A rag hung on the wall.

“Was it about An --”

“No, it wasn’t.” Her hands worked on another plate. “Santi just needed to have a private discussion. You have nothing to worry about concerning Benito, but I better not catch you behave like that again.”

Usue scowled at the scold, wishing Blanca would quit rummaging around and have a proper talk.

“Then what was the probl --”

“I told you it was just a private discussion. There is no problem.”

_Bullshit._

If her words were true, she wouldn’t be acting the way she did. In the chair near the fire, Usue examined the tips of her fingers to appear as if she was doing something. In her head, however, a plan to figure out what was going on was formulating. She would get no answers tonight. It was best to be patient. Fed up with the woman’s tone, the subject changed, careful to make sure bitterness did not crawl into her voice.

“I took the count of the chickens and made sure they were fed. Tomorrow the eggs will be ready.”

“Yes, thank you,” she responded shortly, giving a glance outside at the ending twilight. “It’s getting late. Why don’t you head up to bed? I’ll take care of the fireplace.”

Usue wanted to say no, that the stars were barely out, and she would miss the large size of the moon as it rose, but the diminishment of her curiosity would serve as a reward for allowing her to take charge of the home.

Standing on her feet and looking at the fireplace one last time, she turned for the stairs, shadows dancing along the walls. Candlelight illuminated the small corridor. The wood creaked with step, dress tucked in her hands to prevent tripping.

“Usue?” Blanca called from below. She turned her head.

“Yes?”

“If... If you ever feel lost...in any way... You know you can come to me, right?”

The girl smiled, feeling a warmth in her chest.  

“Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 has been slit into multiple due to timing and late updates. I apologize for the inconvenience, but I'm currently juggling college beginning in 4 weeks, flight training and appointments. Updates will be scattered until I'm moved in and have a set schedule. 'Til then, happy reading!


	4. Wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A familiar face comes along and a decision must be made.

Villemont, a rather small town compared to others on a map, was known for its harsh winters. In the past, they proved to be far harsher than what Spain received. The skies were often murky, the ground grew wet with snow if not frozen, and any wildlife retreated into the wood for rest. While the sun did not set for another hour, men and women both scuttled across the ground, all desperate to return to their homes after a day’s work. The weather forbade them to stop and hold a slight conversation, or take a smoke break, hurrying the townsfolk while on their feet. Some bustled to their cottages, others - most unfortunate - to the creek banks under bridges, the only bed they ever knew.

But one would love Villemont in the summertime. Summer was when the gardens flourished, and the smiles of the town never ceased. The children would laugh and play in the streets, laughter emerging from most homes. It was a lovely sight to watch the evening sun slip through the trees. It was the time of year when people emerged from their homes the most. Once the leaves turned from wine to frost, the smiles would begin fade, shivers in their wake. As the cold brought the season, the first signs of smoke would appear from the chimneys. Not one soul lasted more than a week outside.

But the winds grew merciful this year. Though slight and brief, gone within minutes, warmth slithered through the air during the day.  The season would soon meet its end as winter’s pine joined the smoke from the chimneys. The forest which served as shields for the town stretched for miles, far and wide until the evergreens touched the mountain peaks beyond the horizon.

White clusters stuck to almost every tree branch. All, of course, except one.

Rather than snow, a man was settled, back resting against the bark while he chewed on an apple. As light and lanky as he was, the branch made no sign of giving way while the edges of his cloak draped below. Legs crossed at the knees, skin contrasting the sky, he watched the townsfolk from above. Strange enough, however, none did the same unto him.

It was his favorite time of the year.

For someone typically surrounded by all kinds of heat, the air felt divine against the skin. Some of those whom shared his home enjoyed it, yet others couldn’t wait for the next snowfall. It took effort to be the few who experienced it, and it came with a price. Down below, a few trembled from the cold, as expected from the frailty of Man, but not a shiver escaped the man in the tree. The approaching golden hour edged his raven hair, turning his breaths to mist.

Villemont proved itself far better than the previous towns of France. The folks displayed a kindness greater than Bedelia and Rainier, managing to keep their home in presentable condition. That, of course, was no concern to the one eating the apple in the tree. Avoiding others unless the need for help proved otherwise brought him here, after all, but their behavior made it easier to distinguish the snakes.

Night unnerved him. The day granted time to blend in, to move without notice. When the shadows fell, the slightest misstep was enough to send tremors. In previous towns, there were a few moments when both ears would perk from a noise.

The frost relaxed him. The last horse for the night was cared for in the stable and he was free to go for the rest of the evening. Once the inn owners assigned him to the duty upon request, they were kind to promise a reserved room, all meals provided. It was a title that didn’t come with foul tasks compared to chimney sweepers or worse, toshers.

That’s not to say the job was always easy, however. While greeted fondly to some men, animals were still weary around the new hostler just as they always had been. It was imperative that he feigned extra care whenever a horse was handed to him, especially steeds. Some days they didn’t put up a fight, others it took all his effort just to get them into the barn.

But his work was nearly flawless. Stallions were assigned to the left while mares were assigned to the right. Inside each stall, the hay never fell short and the food was left plentiful. Occupied stalls were cleaned once a day and any aggressive horses were removed before cleanup, one of the first things he learned to do on the job. Being kicked in the face was not a pleasant feeling.

But it never became overbearing. The most that needed to be taken care of in a day was a total of eight and any more than that, the owners were kind enough to send in another hostler for help. In the past year, it happened once. Times where another person had to come in were rare. It was scarce for the inn to be busy.

The job was quiet. It was straightforward. Above all, it was away from people.

Due to the town’s small size, everyone knew almost everyone. Most people were spotted in pairs and it was rare to see anyone strolling on their own. Frequently, the inn owners would implore their hostler to join them during supper, yet the man preferred to eat alone, hidden behind the walls of his room.

“But it must be awfully silent up there,” the madam’s gentle voice hushed. “Surely you’d like to sit with the rest of us.”

They often ate with the guests of the inn, chattering with each of them. Presenting smiles, they always greeted with mirth, and it was enough to turn any kind of grump into a jovial man, except for the newcomer.

“Thank you for the offer, but I enjoy the quiet.”

Whenever the couple questioned why, instead of receiving an answer, another thank you was uttered before he climbed up the stairs. It only took a few tries before they ceased to ask. Not much was ever exchanged.

A rotten odor faintly brushed his nose. His heart raced, eyes franticly searching the grounds. The smell disappeared as fast as it came and when the man couldn’t spot anything suspicious, he pushed himself at ease.

_They will never find me here. They can’t._

He had been on the run for a long time and his scent was erased miles before emerging from the woodland edge. However, in spite of the solitude, France itself was almost too close for comfort to the village abandoned so long ago.

But Villemont was secluded. It was silent, save the nights when the pubs were full. If a lone wolf were to seek shelter away from foes, it would be here.

It is best not to dwell on fright. There was no point in fretting over what could happen at the moment. Once enough money was collected to move on, the venture would continue as usual.

A young woman passed the tree. His back unfurled, slackening with a turn of her hair, the face remaining a stranger. The apple core fell to the ground and for the umpteenth time, folly arose from within. Such moments occurred every now and then whenever transitioning towns. Being on the run meant that one was bound to see an abundant variety of people. Some were quite unusual, others seemed quite familiar.

All the same, the chances of actually encountering the girl again were slim to none. The habitants of her village latched themselves to her like leeches. It would be surprising if the child were allowed to leave.

 _No, not a child,_ he corrected himself, _not anymore._ It had been eight years since he had left, and she was growing. Perhaps her guardians were already finding potential suitors, or she was completing household chores endlessly. Who knew? Maybe his words really were taken literally, and now she was devoting the rest of her days to sisterhood, intent on becoming the fairest nun in the village.

 _Impossible,_ he sneered. If she were anything like the little girl he left behind, she’d run for the hills on the very first day.

Still, regardless of how many doors were open for her, he couldn’t help but wonder if she had a choice at all. There was something about that priest that unsettled him in every way, and he knew she was not an ordinary girl. The thought of the miserable old shit being around the child, filling her head with ridiculous ideas and degrading her for any retaliation was enough to provoke his ire. Of course, it was certain that she could hold her own, yet sometimes he wondered if she had ever been struck. If not by her guardians, then by the other villagers and if so, well... He wasn’t sure if he would turn back at once.

The sun blazed through the colored horizon, turning the bark to gold. He wondered if -- despite the infinite what ifs -- she had made a life of her own, free to roam and witness and live in the world God created for Man. While a tuft of snow fell from a branch, he wondered how tall she became, if she was any more or less brave than he once knew, and if she looked any different than the child being led through the dark all those moons ago. With a twitch of his ear, he wondered if she would remember him at all.

_Enough. You need to move._

The man descended from the branches with a touch of grace, having been used to climbing for so long. Moving against the crowd, a pair of footprints pressed into the white snow.

One of the pubs was sighted just a handful of buildings away. After the long day of grooming and cleaning out the stalls, a drink was decided on, but he was strict on how much indulgence was taken accounted for. Though it had been some time before moving to this new town, it was still short, and the townsfolk had not yet gained his trust for him to loosen the reins. Now would be the worst time to lose composure.

_But just a glass will do no harm._

“Oi! Watch where you’re going!”

He stumbled, a glimpse of hair passing by. It could’ve been mistaken for fire. The stranger disappeared before a curse could escape his tongue.

_Bastard._

A loud crash resounded from inside the doors. The pub had only been visited twice since the move and although the noise meant inevitable drunkards, liquor’s temptation won. It would be a treat for completing another day’s work.

As he made his way through the crowd, ignoring the raspy French songs that filled the air, the bartender had already begun to reach for the glasses.

“Another snifter for tonight, Rafael?”

“Brandy. Just one.”  

Without another word, the glass slid across the counter. Nothing like a good scowl to ward off any future conversations. A quiet table in the far corner became more inviting.

The candle’s flame illuminated the glass that rested against the man’s lips. Surveying the singing group of topers from afar, a light smirk graced his face. While the community cheered and raised their drinks to almost every chorus, Rafael, so he was called, was counting down the seconds before a most unfortunate accident were to befall on any one of them. Particularly, he was eyeing the man dancing on the table, swinging his drink in his left hand while his right continued to flail around like a pigeon.  

Yes, it’d be a shame if one were to lose his footing, especially after spilling a pint of that wasted beer. One could only imagine the concussion a drunk would receive from falling during such a state. Come the morning he certainly wouldn’t remember a thing. Perhaps the fall would be enough to parry any further nights such as this, and all it would take is just a little sli-

“ _Look out!_ ”

With a _crash_ , laughter filled the air. The table members stood from their chairs, bustling to help their friend. Others guffawed and cackled at the sight, slamming their fists onto the table, while Rafael simply grinned into the brandy, repressing a snicker.

“I don’t believe good things come to those who laugh at the misfortunate,” a baritone voice rumbled from the other side of the table.

Placing down his drink, Rafael turned his gaze to the man before him and raised his brow. He didn’t remember hearing footsteps.

“Clearly they don’t come to the reckless either.”

Pulling up a chair, the bearded local sat down, broad compared to the other’s lanky form. “Yes, I’ve dealt with my fair share of those. Quite often, to add.”

“Must be a terrible burden.”

“It is.” He paused, then extended a hand. “Clause.”

“Rafael,” the hostler stated, eyeing the hand before returning the gesture. His back leaned against the chair.

“You don’t seem as mundane compared to the rest of the town. Are you new?”

“Traveler. I care for the horses at the inn.”

_Now leave._

“A fitting job for someone who moves from place to place.”

“I suppose.”

"My wife and I just recently moved in from the east. She adores the evergreens and wanted some time away from her side of the family. She does not carry the best relationship with them. Leaving our home was a struggle, but she quite enjoys the cold against my better judgement. It's pleasing to find someone just as new as we are."

"Women can be bothersome whenever they feel the need. And stubborn." He could name one, but would never share, and it was irritating enough that this man insisted on telling him his story when it was never asked for.

Clause waved his hand. "Don't mistake my words, she's a fine woman."

"It's awfully cold out. Shouldn't she be with you this evening?"

"Currently keeping the fire warm."

Before he could ask why the stranger was intent on bothering him, a trailing stench of bile hit his nose. It wrinkled as another sip was taken, the alcohol’s scent overthrowing the latter.

“Careful, Nicolas! At this rate, we wouldn’t want you losing the wife, too!”

They roared another whirl of laughter and Rafael rolled his eyes, taking another sip of the brandy. It amazed him how idiocy spread from one man to the other so quickly, far too similar to the countless diseases he had heard of over the years. From the other side of the pub, the bartender grew irritated by the gathering, frowning at the mess. The glare on his face confirmed Rafael’s belief to be shared by at least one in the establishment.

“Reckless, indeed.” Clause shifted, resting his arm against the table, watching the drunken show. “You’d think by the brains they have they’d monitor how much they consume.”

Rafael’s eyebrow rose. “It’s that time of the evening, not much of a surprise,” he dismissed, wishing the stranger would take his leave. “Most folk end up like that.”

“Perhaps, but that one there might be a special case,” Clause replied, turning back his gaze. “He has spent several nights here wasting away his temperance.”

“Sounds like a personal problem.” Another sip. Glass shattered from the far table.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Behind Clause, the bartender flung down his rag, stepping out from the counter and making his way to the obnoxious party. He shouted at the drunkard - whom had bits of vomit in his beard - in a manner of demand and when the boozer’s face twisted, spatting that he wasn’t going to leave, it only took a mere second for the tapster to roughly grab him by the shoulders, beginning the haul to the door. Some watched the scene from afar, but not all. The rest of the lot were content with remaining in their seats. They continued to sing.

“It’s a shame he displayed such crude behavior. Sad to have made an embarrassment of not only himself, but his advocates as well.”

“Yes, a fair number of men like him are out there,” he uttered, and while Clause’s eyes continued to follow the group nonchalantly, Rafael’s glare bore into his face. There was something familiar about him. Although new, he had never seen him before in his daily watches. The inn was very close to the town's entrance and not even a horse under his name was ever assigned. The way he was speaking was peculiar and the bartender clearly had no intention of bringing the man a drink. The air started to grow thin.

“He might’ve been able to stay...if he had only done what he was told.”

Rafael could have rolled his eyes but refrained. “I don’t believe he’ll be an issue anymore.”

“I do.”

He turned his head. “It’s those kinds of men that townsfolk need to keep in line. What’s more disappointing is their inability to listen. If he would’ve continued his parade, the others may have been forced to leave.”

“Why is this man such a concern to you?” Feigning uninterest, Rafael swirled the last few sips of the brandy in his hand. The edge was only a few buildings down and around the corner.

Clause’s tone lowered a resister. “Only a model of what happens to those who do not listen, who do not heed warnings.”

The liquor ceased to sway. A man stared at them from a table to the right. Another to the left, neither drinks touched. Their eyes were a bizarre shade of color. Shifting in his seat, he was unable to recall when they had entered the pub.

“However, I can think of a finer example.”

He had his attention.

“And who might that be?”

Noise from the public disappeared. Shifting again, he stole a glance at the door, the glass tightening in his hold.

“You of all should know, Sartael.”


	5. Turncoat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To leave or not to leave?

Shards of glass flew into the air as well as screams. The inquisitor tumbled to the floor, blood streaking down his brow. His advocates sprung from their chairs, daggers in hand. They were lanky things, backs bent at odd angles, proceeding faster than any common man.

Snarls pursued the sprinting fugitive. Outside the doors, a woman yelped in fright, her drink spilling onto the ground. Looking left and maneuvering through the small crowd, Sartael turned tail around the corner into the alleyway.

“Shit, shit, _shit_ _!"_  he breathed, leaping over a barrel. His heart desperately tried to keep up with his feet, but it felt as though it would fail at any moment.

How could they have found him? This town was miles away from the old village! He couldn’t recognize the duo, and he had yet to see Clause’s eyes. Even his nose had failed him. His feet stumbled here and there, but if he didn’t get to the wood quickly, Sartael was certain he’d be dragged by them.

He couldn’t go back. It wasn’t an option. He didn't come this far just to be suddenly snatched by a little pack; it was going to take more. Only Lucifer knew what would happen to him. He just  _couldn’t_.  

A shout reached his ear, but the sound of the wind and his heartbeat muffled the words. As the alley met its end he leaped upon the wooden fence, passing with ease. The field of sodden grass turned into leaves, the trees were a blur and he wasn’t prepared for the drop.

Every step required his balance if it meant not to fall. As he slid across the ground, a flurry of leaves in his wake, vines and twigs snagging at his cloak, snarls that no human of any name could make pursued him. It did not take sheer intellect to know who they were and where they came from.

When the ground evened, the fear remained. His panic could not subside and there was no telling if they were lengths away or right behind him.

A break in the trees lay ahead. Perhaps this was his chance. By Belfegor’s tail, there had to be a way to lose them!

The break drew closer. It was probably a little valley and maybe the rocks could hide him, losing the others.

But when he approached the pass, his heart stopped.

This was it.

He was done for.

Below lay a bed of ice. By far, it was one of the largest ones he had ever seen inside of a forest. The river stretched far, its white wall spilling over the edge, cascading into one another while dull cracks echoed through the wood. The fall could kill any man and the ice was moving, breaking off further down the stream. Turning his head, Sartael spotted the men almost within reach, their faces twisting every step.

He needed to cross. Now.

Looking down, he quickly shifted his weight with precision, the gray stones slipping under his hands as he descended. His cloak billowed behind his shoulders. Allowing his nails to show, he clawed his way down in support of his feet, careful not to lose his footing. The stones were sharp and rough enough to cause damage, but he was used to sprinting in forests.

_Just a little bit farther._ Then he could make a run for it, and not look back.

Yet when he placed his foot onto the bed, a harsh crack filled the air. The sound was memorable, but a far cry from the crackling of flames. Leaning forward, he tested the ice again only for it to split in two.

But there was no other option! It was either across the river or back to Hell. His choice had been made a long time ago.

The low cracking persisted, and he did his best to concentrate. Quickly, steadily, one foot led in front of the other. Tufts of snow fell from the wall and a silent wish that it would not give way was made.

He was halfway across. If he could just reach the other side, he could climb his way out of here. There were five of them and there was no way the ice would support all. His escape was so close and if he kept his weight lifted, he would soon--

“Sartael!”

The demon froze. Blood ran cold. His ears couldn’t have mistaken him, for he knew that voice and could recognize it from anywhere.

With a turn, his eyes widened.

“Do not make this any harder than it has to be.”

Fading into mist, his breath shuddered.

...This was impossible.

“Orobas?”

They bore red skin. Two flanked both sides. Some had horns that curled from their head; the others carried fangs that hung well past their jaws. One looked as if his very flesh was rotting off the bone, eyes and cheeks sunken into nothing. The weapons once in their hands were no longer daggers but tall, pointed pitchforks, sharp enough to kill with a gentle thrust.

Grotesque, gnarled and wrinkled - tails whipping, black claws digging into the ice, their features were enough to overshadow any nightmare. They were enough to strike fear into the heart of any man.

And in the middle, his disguise slipping, stood his friend.

...No. No, this wasn’t right.

“You knew the penalty,” the demon said, taking a step forward. “It’s already worse as it is. It’s time to go back.”

“Wh... Why?”

He didn’t understand. He expected Alastor. If not him, then one of the princes. If not one of the princes, then literally anyone else.

There was no reason why his friend should be here. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

Orobas’ lip curled from his underbite, his stern voice slicing the air.

“ _Why?_ How can you ask why? You’ve disrupted order, failed your position, revealed yourself to humans, and allowed yourself to be caged!” The answer ended in a shout, and it wasn’t what Sartael’s question referred to.

Normally agitation would already be forming, and a typical reply would involve mentioning that being locked in a cage wasn't exactly a choice he made. Instead, he was dumbfounded.

“He sent you...?”

The scolding did not recede. “Let it also not go unnoticed that you have fled from your punishment for nearly ten years. Demotion, yes, you would have earned as is deserved, but now your charges have surpassed broken protocol. You’ve committed heresy!”

Behind him, the four other demons began to close in. Their snarls were clear, and their eyes could have pierced anything, but the ice forbid any interjection.

“You were not far along with the job given to you,” he continued. “Maybe your words were true and maybe the blacksmith was difficult after all, contrary to the pathetic soul I’ve seen.”

At once, his low tone shifted. It only reflected disappointment. “But Sartael, _sneaking in_ a soul to retrieve another? _Helping_ them? Do you even realize what kind of talk has stirred? Have you any idea of what you’ve done?”

Sartael’s eyes darkened, the spade of his tail flicking in protest, cover long forgotten. The growl in his throat was unable to be repressed. How did he know of his aid in the girl’s escape? He had dashed through the gates before Alastor emerged. Such knowledge couldn’t have been retrieved unless it was shared.

“I had a debt--”

“A pact was made," the demon interrupted. "Alastor wanted that soul.”

“It did not belong--"

“You embarrassed us all. You embarrassed _me!”_ he snapped. “We are not speaking of debts; your actions have stretched beyond pacts. It is sheer luck that Alastor sent me instead of coming himself in hopes that maybe you would finally use your brain after being warned by someone else. You’ve brought this upon yourself and there is no one to blame!”

Cracks formed as soon as another bout of rumbling began. Sartael took a step back, heart threatening to beat out of his chest once more, panic muffling Orobas’ voice. From the very beginning, he was hell-bent on getting what he wanted, but was currently too far from the edge to make a run for it. He’d be effortlessly caught.

More rumbling.

“This is your last chance. The river won’t wait forever.” Another step. “And neither will we.”

As the ice withdrew, the white wall began to cry rivulets, its shards falling to the ground. Pressure was giving way. Sartael darted his eyes in every direction, feeling his time slip away, but couldn’t ignore the fact that the demon’s words rang true.

His case was bad enough. He could give up here, now. Maybe he could beg for a lesser punishment since one was imminent. Maybe a good dose of confession could persuade the executioner. Perhaps Orobas could remain in his defense if he left willingly.

And there would be no more sitting animals. There would be no more shitty homes. There would be no more humans, and he wouldn’t have to continue to exist in a world that could only be watched from the outside. He could finally end the strain of running, accept the sentence given and _maybe_ live to see the end of it.

_Like Hell!_

A deafening roar filled the air.

With a spring, he jumped.

All it took was for the legion to turn their heads. The wall smothered everything in its path, red creatures disappearing into a cloud of white. Beneath the surface, the current pushed the lone imp downstream in rapid speed, blocks of frozen snow passing his head.

The trees flew by in a blur. He was never experienced much in swimming and the bank was far from sight. The roaring carried on with its onslaught, hindering his ears, eyes filled with obscurity and early dawn.

Doing his best not to swallow an abundance of water, he focused on his balance, feet kicking to stay upright. His head went under a few times, eyes closed, and he could feel his body losing the strength to fight against the brutal current. The distance stretched far and Orobas along with the other demons were nowhere in sight. If he didn’t get to shore soon, the rip current would eventually pull him beneath the waves.

Surely his heart had stopped sometime beforehand. He needed the edge to be in reach, for soon all energy would give way. Both feet couldn’t hold him infinitely.

After a few coughs and sputters, a flicker of wood appeared in his peripheral vision. To the right, the notice of a fallen tree was almost missed.

Almost.

As his arms pushed with the stream, he made sure his claws were donned. He only had one shot before the river continued to carry him in its path. Grunting, a curse escaping his lips, he shoved the pieces of ice away. His hands remained stretched out until the onyx nails gripped the bark.

When he hoisted out of the water, the bank appeared. The scent of moss and lichen befouled his nose. Water dribbled off his skin, replacing itself with tremors, but he hadn’t touched land yet. Scratches dug themselves into the wood. His limbs twisted while he crawled across, careful not to slip. Only when his feet steadied themselves in the sodden sand did he climb up away from the stream.

The loud roaring was now a hushed murmur. The forest expanded once more, its shield of trees inviting. All trails of his scent had been washed away.

Another shiver ran through him, his tail whipping to dry itself.

He fucking hated swimming.

He hated rivers or better yet any body of water. It reminded him of when he accidentally fell into a boiling pot years ago, requiring help in getting out. A soul was spotted attempting to climb its way out along the edges, and he just so happened to be nearby, sent to get rid of it. He had lost his footing, slipping away before the realization even occurred to him. He remembered vividly how much it burned, and although the incident was embarrassing enough, the rest of Hell’s habitants were content to tease him for it. Their jesting did not cease for many nights and ironically, it had been Orobas himself who was willing to pull him out.

He hated Alastor. He hated how he had sent Orobas to bring him back, and he hated the manner in which Orobas just spoke to him. Out of all the other demons, he was always the one that managed to get him through most of the shit that was assigned to him. While both worked on their own during the job, meals were often shared with one another whenever they were finished. A bond had formed during their time together and Sartael was convinced Orobas deemed himself reliable.

Now, he wasn’t so sure.

How long had they been watching him? He had been there for days and received no suspicions of any kind. His daily watches were completed without fail. How could he not have smelled them?

Exhausted, his thoughts began to trail away from his footsteps. He hated the folly that led him to being locked in the cage, the folly that was all his own. He hated that no one even tried to look for him, he hated the scars that he carried, and he hated the damn blacksmith who had been the center of it all.

_I never should have picked up the job_ , he thought, feet shuffling along the bed of leaves. His tremors began to subside.

A strong surge of anger flooded his sense. Whatever money he carried was now lost in the river. He couldn’t return to Villemont; it was yet another town on the map that led to his capture. His shelter was gone just as much as his job, and he was unfamiliar with where the current carried him.

For the first time in years, he had trouble knowing where to go. He couldn’t go east; Alastor surely had parties waiting for him to retrace his steps. Then again, west wasn’t that smart of a choice either if taking into account where Hell’s hunt for him began.

Maybe it was time to head to the docks. He didn’t really want to travel by seas whenever he thought about it, but now it seemed that it wasn’t much of an option anymore. Who knew when Orobas or rather anyone from his former home would find him again? Perhaps they would eventually catch on to his scent once more but until then, the very least he could do was place some distance between them. One way or another, it would give him time, though he wasn’t sure how long that would last either.

He may be a fool, but he wasn’t stupid. In the back of his mind, the knowing that one day he would be dragged back was becoming harder to brush off his shoulder. The world wasn’t big enough for him to keep running endlessly, and it was nearly impossible for him to never be found. When Hell’s grand executioner wanted something, somehow or other, he would get it.

What’s worse is there was little to no room for complaints. Luck was only another thing on God’s list that wasn’t meant for him.

As the sun rose, a fuchsin sky casted itself above the forest. Burning amber and gold, followed by streaks of pale rose. Slowly, the world began to awaken. When the light weaved through the trees, the sparrows broke into song. The crimson hue of berries met Sartael’s gaze, their color vibrant and welcoming as well as the emerald arms that stretched overhead. The air smelt of dew and morning, not a patch of snow in sight while the small, hidden warmth that rarely trailed through Villemont came running back.

Spring was on the move.


	6. Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are choices that need to be made, but at what cost? These are times to tread lightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prolonged update, but just in time for the new year. Welcome 2020!

Usue opened her eyes to another sky of gray, and the smell of damp wood trailed through the window from outside. She smiled.

_It’s almost here._

As she peaked at the corner of the window from where she lay, the evergreens in sight were free from snow. The girl had not seen a sheet of white on the ground for almost a month now. In its place, rain presented itself to the calm village, warming the air from the cold. Although they haven’t yet received an abundant amount, it was still there.

She didn’t like thunderstorms. It was a fear that stemmed from somewhere she wasn’t exactly sure of. The noise of the air and the way the ground shook after thunder cracked the sky was enough to send her under the bed when she was a child. As she grew, she learned to count with deep breaths as a soothing technique and would tuck the blankets around her to provide a secure space. Lightning strikes would threaten to ignite the entire house, and Mateo would strictly order her back to bed whenever she sought comfort. Sometimes it even stormed in her dreams.

But those gentle rainfalls that occurred every spring were different. They were quiet, not garish or vile, and it was beautiful the way the water cascaded off the plant life. Despite all the fright a storm could bring, Usue knew that rain brought back the flowers. She was lucky enough her carnations survived throughout the winter season. True, her home had been absent of sunlight for so long, but now they could flourish at their will. She couldn’t remember how many weeks had passed after her shadow disappeared, and the other girls in the village were quick to make their complaints clear. Even when it rained, they weren’t fond of the damp.

But it was always this time of year that green began to slowly make its way back. It was the time when daisies would start to bloom along the edge of the wood and she would be quick to venture out, attempting to find herself a batch of flowers to place inside a vase back at the monastery. Perhaps she could find some during this week.

Usue began to stir, but a chilled breeze crept into the bedroom that made her want to curl back up under the covers. The girl woke to find her feet cold, and a single lit candle would cure them. She would just need to shut the crack in her window, then climb back into bed and fall asleep again. She hadn’t even experienced any bad dreams that night, an uncommon thing to occur.

It had been a long time since her night terror she had of the fire outside the bedroom door. Knowing this both relieved and concerned her. Usue would prepare for bed as always, but in the back of her mind, there was the expectation that something similar to what she dreamt of would happen again, if not the same nightmare.

But her bed would still be warm. The room would be calm with not too much light shining through, and she could listen to the goldfinches sing until she fell asleep again.

That is, if she could hear the faint sound of Blanca cooking downstairs.

Maybe even the occasional clatter of a pot or pan.

Anything, really…

After straining her ears, she opened her eyes again. Silence.

She sniffed, searching for signs of food. Nothing. Indeed, the cottage was calm, but also quiet. Normally, the scent of cooked meat would trail its way up the stairs. Normally, her adoptive mother would call for her down below to get dressed. Or she would come barging through the door at her own free will — one of the two.

But it was silent this morning.

How odd.

Lifting the covers up, she padded across the room to her wardrobe, preparing to get dressed. Since the rain left behind cooling temperatures, she grabbed one of her shawls and placed it around her shoulders. During the time of stumbling into her clothes, she continued to try to listen for any noise on the floor below, but nothing met her ears. The familiar curiosity began to crawl beneath her skin, for the monastery hadn’t experienced a morning like this in a long time.

After lacing up her shoes and placing her nightgown where it belonged, Usue opened the door to find no light gleaming from the top of the stairs. Her hands clutched the shawl firmly around her as she exited the doorway.

Every day when there was nothing but clouds, Blanca would light a dozen candles throughout the cottage to brighten the place up. Her guardian didn’t like dreary, cold households, placing one or two candles on each of the windows, the mantle, the tables, and even the shelves. The warmth always caused her to carry a content smile whenever she cooked breakfast, and Mateo would wear the same expression when he appeared from the other bedroom, shuffling to the table.

But it was quiet, and there was no light. As her hand brushed along the railing, Usue did her best to lift her weight, trying to avoid placing too much pressure on the first wooden step. She hoped it wouldn’t creak and give away her position. She wasn’t in the mood for answering to either of them scolding her for “sneaking around”.

But she couldn’t resist. The girl was talented at being quiet. She wanted to know why things were unusual and was determined to find out.

Keeping her balance, not even daring to breathe, her feet continued to step down.

“I just don’t understand. Spring will be here at any time. Why have we not been able to find anything nearby?”

Usue froze.

“I wish I had an answer for that, my dear.”

The sound of her other guardian’s voice cut the air. “We have almost a whole week before the chickens grant us their next batch of eggs,” Blanca hissed under her breath from the kitchen. “All we have is bread, a small batch of berries from the previous season, and a few apples from the orchard! Tell me, how am I supposed to cook for the three of us with that?”

Usue turned her head, looking down the hall at her guardians standing near the entryway. Their silhouettes stood against the gray light from the window.

“I am sure there is game somewhere along the edge of the wood. They can’t have gone that far. It’s almost spring, after all.” Despite Mateo’s attempt to assure her, she shook her head.

“That’s my point, Mateo, it _is_ almost spring. The animals should be ending their hibernation by now. If anything, they should be just across the lawn!”

“Now, now, it’s still early; I’ve already agreed to have a word with Santi about this. We’re not the only ones that have noticed.”

The priest sighed, dipping his head while his mouth formed a gentle smile. “One way or another, Blanca, we will have food. There is no need to worry,” he chuckled.

He spoke in the tone that Usue could recognize anywhere. Though she was at a distance, she was certain his eyes were gleaming with the usual mirth. He used it when speaking to a new or veteran member of the church, and whenever Blanca would fret over something no matter how small or big the problem appeared to be. It was something never showed to Usue unless there was motive behind them.

 _Like being courted by Benito_ , she reminded herself bitterly. Her glare stretched across the hallway as if she could cut him with it. Mateo had a coldness around Usue that the girl witnessed no matter how little or hard he tried to hide it. She could even see it through the façade he displayed when they discussed Hell all those years ago in front of the fire.

From the stairway, Usue furrowed her brows, waiting until both of them continued what they were busy with beforehand. She didn’t want the conversation to end and then magically appear from the second floor. Such a notion would surely bring an onslaught of interrogation. She had been caught in a similar scenario years ago, and she would never forget the punishment that came after the forced confession.

It was best to make it look like she had been busy with getting dressed. The girl continued to wait a few more moments, counting down from sixty. When the dishes in the kitchen finally began to stir from Blanca’s hands, she walked through the entrance, taking a seat at the table.

“Good morning, Usue,” her guardian greeted without turning her head from the handled dish. “I was wondering when you would get out of bed.”

“Morning.” She kept her voice soft, rubbing her eye to further the “just now waking up” impression. “I had a good sleep, that’s all.”

“Well that’s wonderful to hear, because you just woke up in time for Mass,” Blanca replied, setting down the plate of eggs and sliced pieces of an apple.

Usue’s face turned into an immediate frown.

Lifting an eyebrow at her scowl, Blanca ordered her. “Go on and eat, then get dressed into proper attire. I expect you to be back down here within ten minutes.”

“No sausages today?” Usue asked, taking a bite of the eggs.

Blanca’s hand working on a dish paused, and the girl could barely hear a small sigh.

“No, not today. We’ll run short if we don’t keep stock.”

“But I haven’t had any sausages lately.”

“You are not the only one that lives in this house, Usue. We’ve had a harsh winter and since it’s coming to an end soon, it would be pointless to run out of food. Now eat.”

Well, that was the end of that. The girl swallowed the bite she took, scooting her fork under another pile. Despite her efforts, her guardian wasn’t going to mention this morning’s conversation.

“Aren’t there any chores that need to be done?” she countered, half trying to change the subject and half trying to escape from her certain doom.

“You _will_ be attending Mass today,” Blanca drawled, “and as a matter of fact, you will be sitting next to me so I can keep an eye on you.”

Usue hunched in her seat, her glare boring into her plate. She had woken up this morning in a good mood, and she should have expected something like this because of it. The fork in her hand began to push the scrambled eggs around rather than picking them up.

“You have skipped Mass for far too long. It’s about time you started to attend like a true saint.”

Her charge’s eyes narrowed. If she wielded any sort of power, the plate in front of her would be shattered to pieces by now. The word saint hadn’t been referred to her in a long time.

“You have potential, Usue, and I will not sit by, watching you waste it away. I understand you do not want to marry any time soon, and I believe there is an alternative for that.”

Usue blinked as her head raised.

“If you would just commit to sainthood —”

“I would rather die,” she growled, followed by a stabbing of the eggs with her fork.

“Then the only other path for you would be to find a suitor, and according to Mateo, there’s a fine one right down the road from here.”

She had a good morning. For once, really, she did. Why did she have to have a good morning?

Every time it happened, something else was going to ruin it. As her guardian spoke, she knew the argument wasn’t going to be won. It was sad enough there were only a few tallied ones that existed where she did, in fact, win. The eggs in her mouth grew tasteless while she chewed, her stomach rapidly losing its appetite.

Usue wanted it to stop. She wanted to stitch up the mouth of every person in the village that dared to even utter the words ‘saint’, ‘Mass’, ‘witch’ or ‘marriage’. She wanted to run away — just keep running, and running, and running until she became so lost that a new identity was necessary to survive. Spain was west from here. France was east. But which way to go?

 _There’s always the sea,_ she told herself, thoughts deafening Blanca’s millionth lecture. But at the same time, she wasn’t sure if that was a smart decision. She only knew one language and once she set sail, then where to? How would she provide for herself?

But to get that small taste of freedom would be so sweet. To walk and roam amongst a people that held no judgement for her, at least not the kind of judgement found here. She could perhaps live in a warm cottage along the coast or maybe even one just outside a busy bazaar.

Maybe she would find a friend or two, nothing like Benito or Ander or the rest of the children who treated her as if she was a plague.

Despite the people around her, maybe she wouldn’t have to feel alone.

“Why you carry on this fussing day after day I’ll never understand, but it is important to remember that you have responsibilities here. Mass is something attended by everyone, and everyone includes you, child.”

She wasn’t even aware Mateo joined in, nor could recall when he sat down across from her.

“One day I won’t have to anymore.”

“But today is not that day.”

Usue ignored the stern look on Mateo’s face. After eating the last few bites of her breakfast, she excused herself, and trudged back upstairs to change.

It was going to be a long day.

 

* * *

 

“Let us drink the blood of the Lord.”

Dear God, it really _was_ going to be a long day.

Usue’s eyes trailed up to the grotesque statues above the alter while the walls absorbed the prayer. Blanca’s eyes were closed with her head bowed, and the girl knew there was no way of escaping. Benito and Ander sat in the row behind her, along with Santi and Ana. She could hear the two girls in the back — now her age — whispering to one another while watching Usue’s movements. Although there was candlelight, the church looked dreary as ever. Mateo’s dull, leaden voice rang through the church, arms held out in the typical posture he took.

 _Aren’t we supposed to be out by now?_ She brought her attention back to the priest, but he was barely beginning to pull out the wine.

 _Always slow at this part._ Her cheek came to rest against her knuckles, earning a glare from Blanca once she opened her eyes. Not that it mattered, though. She was lucky enough the girl managed to reel in enough patience to not barrel the doors down in full sprint.

The metal trays of bread and wine were passed around.

“You had better not hide it this time,” Blanca gritted through her teeth. In the past, her guardian had caught her a handful of times tucking it away in her shawl or the folds of her dress. If it meant to get rid of it, she did what she could to hide the bread away. One time she crushed it secretly in her hand and dropped the crumbs before anyone had noticed.

And who could blame her? Neither were the most pleasant things to taste in the world. When Mateo gave the cue for them to eat, Usue only gave it two bites before swallowing. Even as a child, she had always hated the taste. The bread crumbled apart as soon as she bit down on it, leaving a chalky feeling on her tongue. The wine itself was consumed quickly as well to wash it down. The goal was not to give her tastebuds enough time to process what was placed inside her mouth.

Today she didn’t have a choice. When Blanca tipped the small cup to her lips, Usue ate the bread and drank the wine swiftly.

“You don’t have to be so dramatic,” her guardian muttered. “It’s not like you’re ill.” As she consumed her share the girl let out a huff, annoyed that she referred to her dislike of medicine in front of the other villagers. Although irritated by it, there was no denying that her adoptive mother always had a hard time whenever her charge came down with a fever. Years ago, sometimes it required both Mateo and Blanca’s efforts in order for her to take it.

Refusing to engage in argument, Usue returned her gaze to the statues above, the voice of Mateo droning away by the second.

Her eyes trailed down the stone carvings to the candles that lay below. The flames blanketed the statues in an amber glow, and by now the priest’s voice was only a dull noise influencing her thoughts to stray away.

Her mind was going back to that walk home, where her footsteps trailed further and further away from where Patxi remained.

She should have stopped him.

She tells herself every night.

She should have said no, that it was foolish to have even come at all and drag him by the hand the whole way back, no matter what he said. Anything if it meant to keep him alive.  

When Mateo’s voice began to disappear, the sinking feeling wrapped itself around her heart again. It came every time she’d pass the gates of the keep, every time Patxi was mentioned, and every time she was forced to attend Mass, having nothing else to look at except the candlelight and vintage statues. A large part of Usue wanted all of it to be Sartael’s fault.

To blame the spawn of Hell would be too easy. If it hadn’t been for him, neither her nor Patxi would have been caught in the situation with Alastor. He could have agreed to help her instead of going back on his word — instead of lying — preventing the blacksmith from stepping foot near that path and preventing Usue from wondering around aimlessly instead of finding what she came for. They could have been in and out of there with her mother in a matter of minutes, and Usue would no longer have to wake up chasing after a ghost.

At least that’s what she thought as a child. The idea of it seemed so effortless. Simple and straightforward with no possible repercussions.

Now she wasn’t so sure.

_“There are lots of souls in Hell.”_

_An understatement,_ she thought, recalling the numerous people that passed her while she stood, confused and wondering where Alastor ran off to.

There had been hundreds of them. And beyond those gates if not hundreds, then millions. Finding one particular soul would be very much like finding a needle in a haystack.

She didn’t want to think of it that way and was desperate to cling on to the hope that her mother could be found. But the older she grew, the more she began to grasp reality. She started to gain an understanding of why Sartael refused to go back at first, or at least assume reasons that were valid. If she was in Sartael’s position and the conversation between him and Alastor was true, she wasn’t sure if she would want to go back either, deal or not. And even then, only God knew how long it would take to actually find Maite as well as bring both her and Usue home.

They would have been caught, most likely, and if that would have happened, then they would have been killed. Or at least she would. Usue wasn’t sure what Alastor would do with her mother or Sartael. What exactly happens after a second death?

Her eyes lowered to the floor. _Still could’ve at least tried,_ she begrudged, remembering her anger from Sartael’s declaration of never going back. His refusal was swift and deliberate.

If he had kept his word, the girl never would have made a deal with Alastor.

She wouldn’t have to remember the sight of the executioner raising his pitchfork, bringing it down with a pain so immediate and agonizing. She wouldn’t have to remember the sadness in Patxi’s smile when he chose to stay. She wouldn’t have to remember the failure she felt during the walk back, and she wouldn’t have to remember the harsh lecture from the demon when she confessed what she had done.

But in the end, Sartael was a demon. And in the end, demons are not known for keeping their word, telling the truth, nor doing anything defined as good.

How could she expect anything more from him?

“We will be visiting Santi and Ana today.” Blanca folded her shawl as she stood, the other villagers rising. “Benito will be present, and I expect you to be on your best behavior.”

“Do I _really_ have to go?”

“Yes, you do,” the tone of her guardian’s voice deterred. “We don’t need you mindlessly running off again — now help me blow out the candles. Mateo will need some assistance.”

In response to Blanca’s outburst in front of the villagers, Usue’s cheeks turned pink as she lowered her head. _I was just going to retrieve wood for the fire,_ the girl thought, recalling her recent trip to the wood after autumn ended. Or at least that was the excuse she used against her guardians. In reality the two had managed to piss her off earlier that day as usual, inducing a need for a walk on her own, and autumn was one of the wood’s most beautiful seasons. It wasn’t an opportunity to be missed.

As she remembered, the next row stood to leave. Benito, who had been sitting a few rows back, turned his head toward them with a grin.

“See you later, Usue. Do try to stay out of trouble until then.”

His sickly-sweet tone provoked another punch, yet the look on Ana’s face was a warning. The girl shuffled her way through the aisle of people, ignoring him and heading for the altar, cursing her guardians for making her attend this upcoming “meeting”. As they prepared to close the church and each batch of candles was extinguished, Usue’s mind began to wander back to the conversation she eavesdropped on that morning. She knew there was something going on that her guardians intended to keep from her, possibly from Benito and the rest of his lot as well.

Blanca did have a point; it didn’t make any sense as to why the men couldn’t find any food, especially so close to springtime. Squirrels and deer were the easiest to hunt and yet there wasn’t a day where they caught even one. Animals hibernated but they couldn’t just disappear — could they?

A feeling of unease rose in her chest. _Something’s wrong, but what?_ There were still at least a few weeks left before winter’s cold finally left. The last thing she wanted was for her and the rest of the village to starve.

Her eye caught the local priest turning towards her, making his way over slowly. His attempt at being discreet was noticed, however, and Usue mentally prepared herself for the next conversation he intended to drag her into.

None of them ended well.

He joined her in the task, bearing a small smile as the wave of his hand banished the flames.

“I understand you don’t believe Benito is the best option for you, despite the boy’s manners,” Mateo stated, fingertips coming together on the flame to put out the candle. “But Sister Therese is open to guiding you through the process as a novice until you are ready to take your vows.”

She tried to focus on the candles, eyeing the trail of smoke that appeared from the blackened strings. “I don’t want to be a nun.”

“Perhaps but think about what will lie ahead for you in the future.” The creases in his face reappeared as he smiled, holding out his hands. “You’d be the first nun to witness the truth of Hell. The first to witness _and_ return. I am unsure of how much you remember, but humanity could learn from your experience — grow and strengthen its knowledge. Not only would it bring you respect, child, but it would also bring you closer to God.” A wave of his hand blew out another batch.

“That’s not what I want.”

“Then what _do_ you want, child?”

 _To be far away from here as soon as possible._ Not to mention her mother as well, but she wouldn’t say it.

“Regardless of how you feel, I believe the path God intends to give you will be successful as long as we — including you — stay in His good graces. Learning from your mother—"

“My mother,” she drawled from her teeth, “did nothing wrong.”

He let out a sigh. “Suicide is a sin,” the priest chided. “You know that. There were many things your mother could have done to avoid the desperate measure.”

Usue kept her gaze fixed on the candles. She didn’t even want to look at him — didn’t want to listen. “An example could have been taking care of you.”

His soft voice had no effect.

“She loved me,” Usue murmured, unsure whether or not she was assuring him or herself. The girl wished she knew what became of her mother after she stepped off the ledge. Sometimes Usue could hear the snap of a broken neck in her sleep, the noise sharp enough to crack the ground beneath. She wondered what circle she was assigned to but had a feeling it was best to remain ignorant of what was being done to her. The loathed burning sensation started to scratch at her eyes again, her chest tightening up.

“Caring for someone and taking responsibility for them are different things, child. Yes, your mother was good and kind, but she left all of us, including you. It wasn’t up until that moment she damned herself, and Hell is the punishment. The sin Maite committed cannot be undone, and we can only learn from it.”

The priest paused, observing the sorry sight in front of him. The girl was beginning to become lost in thought, or perhaps memory.

“She was sad,” Usue voiced. “She needed help—"

“Ahem.”

The priest turned, his attention turning to the older woman. Usue blinked rapidly.

“I understand you two are ready?” Blanca asked as she approached, arms wrapping her shawl around her. “The sooner we get there, the better. Ana will fuss if the pub gets too busy while we’re visiting.”

“We were just finishing up,” the priest replied, hand blowing out the last two candles, then coming down to rest against their charge’s back. “Come along, Usue.”

The walk there was mostly quiet, save the few whispers Blanca and Mateo shared every now and then. They remained huddled up front, keeping their backs turned towards the girl that followed suit.

Usue was in no mood to be nosy, however, abandoning the temptation to eavesdrop and instead choosing to watch the birds that flew overhead against the gray sky. One after another their wings beat to and fro, soaring around each other to ensure none lost their way.

The multiple scents of baking trailed down the dirt street, clothes hanging from the crowded stone walls to dry. She looked at each of the villagers that stalked by, questioning if there would be any change.

Ever since she could remember, the pattern had always been the same. Wake up, do the chores, feed the chickens, prepare supper, then go to bed. Somewhere in there attend Blanca and Mateo’s schooling lessons. Every now and then make breakfast. Every now and then try to socialize. Every now and then attend Mass. Every now and then recite the Lord’s Prayer. Then wake up and do it all over again, starting every Sunday, over and over and over and over again until she lived long enough to catch a disease or have a sudden death. Then the list would either be shortened or discontinued.

A couple chickens passed her feet. There was a mother scolding a child in the far corner. Usue did ask for change. She wanted it, yearned for it, but not this particular kind of change. Why Mateo and Blanca were intent on giving her away to another man so soon was beyond her. It was either that or live the rest of her days as one of the Lord’s brides. There was no other alternative.

She watched the child get dragged away by the wrist. They gave her two choices and two choices alone, both sure to put Usue in a state of misery.

“You don’t suppose the animals could have gone far, do you?”

“I hardly think we’ve lost them, dear,” the priest replied to Usue’s guardian. “Have faith; I’m certain they will return soon.”

Passing beneath the _Venta Zarra_ sign overhead, the trio stepped inside where Santi and Ana waited for them towards the back. It was calm and quiet since the meeting was arranged not long after Mass, the tables clean from any alcohol spills or stains. Lanterns dangled from wooden beams etched into the stone ceiling.

“We shouldn’t be getting any customers for today. That’s why I wanted to speak to you as soon as I could.”

“Mateo informed me you knew of this too,” Blanca spoke. “Is that true?”

“Please, have a seat,” Ana requested as she pulled out a chair. Usue studied the woman and waited for her to start ranting about something ridiculous, but a pale look was etched into her face.

Her husband cleared his throat, joining them at the wooden table.

“We had a hunting party search for game last night. Benji, Asier and Miguel offered to go. Not a single creature was caught nor in sight. Our stocks are running low as well, and we’ve had to cut back on the menu. Not even our customers can be fed.”

“You don’t think this has anything to do with —"

Blanca furrowed her brows at Ana, tilting her head towards the young charge. Usue frowned at her guardian and was tempted to say that interrupting was rude.

 “I think we need to send another party but search a different area. Only a handful of sections were covered last time,” Santi continued.

Mateo shifted in his seat, sensing Blanca’s growing irritation. “Perhaps Usue could assist Ana in stock. It’s important to know how much more this establishment has left to offer.”

“I took stock this morning,” the thin woman replied.

“Wait, what does this have to do with me?”

“More to the point, this has _nothing_ to do with you,” Blanca spat. “If you can’t earn others’ trust while on your own, then maybe you can by doing what you’re told.”

“Have you checked by the streams?” Mateo asked. “Searched for dens at the very least — any signs of them?”

“No. Not a creature or man, which only concerns me even more. We’re not sure who to send out this time. We could probably...”

As Santi rambled on with local names, the gears inside Usue’s mind were turning, and suddenly her eyes lit up.

“I’ll go.”

...

The table fell silent. For a moment, Usue expected to be dragged by the ear out of the pub, but no one moved. As she looked towards her guardian, she caught sight of Blanca’s flaring nostrils, and the priest merely dipped his chin, letting out a small sigh. Ana’s face grew a little smirk that fell just as quickly as it came.

“You?”

“Yes.”

Blanca’s stare could have fired bullets. “Usue —"

“Santi, are you hearing this?” his wife snapped, her pale face turning flushed beneath the white bonnet, fringe poking out along the sides. But Usue was quick before the man took the chance to reply.

“Think about it,” the girl urged. “I’ve been in the wood more than any of you have. Whenever I skipped Mass, where did you think I’d go? I even went inside the keep while none of you wanted to step foot near it. I know almost every area there is and if I joined the search party, I’m sure I could find out where the animals are.”

“Usue, that’s enough. This isn’t a task for you.”

The young charge scoffed. “So you’d prefer to starve?”

“Your place is at the monastery completing chores, not hunting for game in the wood. We have worked very hard to keep you away from that place ever since your incident, and we don’t need you coming across someone like Patxi again, much less a demon!”

Usue’s mouth tightened, the urge to hang her guardians by their toes growing stronger. Sometimes it felt like they would only listen if the sun rose in the west.

“We _need_ food,” the girl stressed. “If a group of grown men can’t find anything, you’ll need all the help you can get. I know the wood the most and have seen where the animals hibernate over the years. I even know which areas the snakes dig their burrows.”

“Usue, this isn’t really a good time to —”

“She’s right.”

Mateo turned his head as well as the other two adults, raising a brow. He looked like he was experiencing some hearing impairment.

“What do you mean she’s right?”

“We do need all the help we can get.” Santi’s eyes flicked towards Usue, then back at the priest. “In a few months, our village will face starvation. Perhaps less than that if we continue to wait.”

Usue nodded her head in agreement. Out all of them, the easiest to convince for her was Santi. If she played her cards right, the answers were just around the corner.

“I can go tonight. I’ll —”

“On one condition,” the pub owner drawled. His stern gaze turned to Ana, and an exchanged look on his face was returned with a nod.  

“Benito will be going with you.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Errementari fic that has been developing in my head for the past two weeks. It started out small, but then one scene lead to another, and now the story grows rapidly every day. I don't wish to say much, for I have many plans that could be carried out or could be discarded. Ideas are rough and anything could change. In the meantime, chapters will be published as they go. The theme of the story is inspired by George R.R. Martin's A Game of Thrones. There will be references and allusions to the books. I am excited to reveal this story, and I hope to see some reviews from you wonderful readers. Happy reading!


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